


We've come too far to give up who we are.

by hitandhope



Category: Kaiser Chiefs, The Voice (UK) RPF
Genre: AU, F/M, and a plot device that is probably unbelievable, but follows the real timeline of events, just has extra stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitandhope/pseuds/hitandhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he accepted the job as judge, he thought it would just be a way to help the band.<br/>How wrong he was.<br/>He never banked on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LastShadowPuppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastShadowPuppet/gifts), [moonlight1314](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight1314/gifts).



> Firstly, I'd never thought I'd ever post this, because it's trash. Huge massive thank you to Maria1995 author of the magnificant 'bluebirds' and 'letters to her' who persuaded me to add to our select little fandom.  
> Secondly, the characters are based on real people BUT THAT'S IT. If any of you are reading, I'm so sorry please don't judge, and please probably don't read. Daft punk own he title lyrics.  
> Thirdly, Sorry in advance.

_Nov 13_.

If someone had said to him back when he was kicking around Leeds with his band, jamming in the day jiving round the clubs at night that one day he'd finally get his teeth done, get a liking for waistcoats and be a coach on a popular Saturday night reality show he'd have probably told them to go and get their head checked.

The fact that he was indeed sat in a big red chair with a big red button holding the hopes and dreams of real people with real stories was a bit mind boggling.

He would like to have said he was doing it solely for the future of the music industry, but when you have your first album coming out in three years with a slightly different band and completely different mindset, you do become a bit desperate plagued with the fear that maybe only your mum and the nice lady who smiles at him every time he's back in Leeds and nips down to Sainsbury's local for milk, will be the only ones who buy it. Oh and maybe Claire, but she didn't count, she'd chosen him and stuff like having to like his music was sort of part of the deal. Just like putting up with his grumpy morning moods and his habit for leaving half drunk cups of tea round their house. He'd told her this and she'd laughed prettily before showing him some less than complimentary comments at the bottom of a Daily Mail online article revealing the news he was going to be a coach on The Voice.  
  
She always did know how to keep him grounded.

The band hadn't been keen on the idea, it's just wannabees wanting five minutes of fame they said. Can you really imagine yourself coaching some x factor hopeful they said. What do you even know about proper musical training they said. You just wing it they said. No offense, they said.

And they did have a point.

What did he know about any of this stuff?

Absolutely nothing, it would turn out. There was no briefing, no script, no clues. It would seem that reality TV isn't as manufactured and polished as everyone thought. Well not this programme at any rate.

"We just want you to go with your gut" the harassed producer threw carelessly over his shoulder as he led Ricky down a narrow corridor into the studio. "As I've said many times Mr Wilson, there's no agenda or rules, just listen and if you like what you hear, you know what the button is for."

Well then, he thought, in for penny...

The first few singers came and went, and he didn't press the button for any of them. He'd liked all of them, but had this irrational fear that he would end up with just the first twelve singers he heard on his team and then someone spectacular would come along and he would be stuffed.

That all changed when the 7th singer appeared, he knew because he'd been jotting in his notebook where he kept bits of lyrics and the shopping list Claire texted through to him in between her work day. It kept him balanced she'd said. TV stuff in the day, food shopping in the evening.

They'd already had a guy with a guitar, and he was good but he didn't want a team full of people like him. Despite Will and Kylie's incessant whispering and pointed glances, and just general pointing, he'd let the guy go feeling a bit of prick as from his dejected expression and disappointed look, he'd obviously been counting on Ricky.

He sighed just thinking of the upcoming criticism. The indie front man that doesn't like indie front men.

There was a pause and quite a lot of shuffling as the stage was set for the next act. Maybe it was a piano they were wheeling on, he thought, and started jotting down potential song choices to pass the time.

Finally, everything dissipated to a reverential hushed Ricky had already recognised as the start of a performance and it began.

He didn't realise it at the time, but the moment it took for her to strum the opening notes and sing the first few words, he was changed irrevocably. Everything just fell into place at the sound of her voice, all his self doubts, the journey with the band, Nick's departure: everything was silenced by her breathy, pure voice. It was soft and undemanding, he felt himself leaning forward just to hear more. Which was stupid as he couldn't even see her. It wasn't a conscious decision or a choice but instinct that his hand found the big red button in front of him he swung round to see who could possess such a gift. He swallowed heavily as he saw her: so young, so attractive but not in a typical way. A gypsy nymph. The latter described her features, small, smoky eyes, short brown hair, with big hoops earrings and a blue dungaree skirt with docs.  
She was arresting. And that was just her voice.  
Her looks were irrelevant.   
She was his siren call.  
  
He tuned out for the most part the struggle of the other coaches deciding whether to turn or not, too enchanted by the performance in front of him. He'd heard a lot of singing in his time, particularly in these last few days, but no one sounded like her. Or rather, no one made his gut swoop or touched him like she did. 'Get Lucky' was the song of the moment, but under her charms and her fingertips it had been transformed into something entirely different. The lyrics weren't carelessly thrown out hidden by the upbeat tune. She'd taken them and cherished them and polished them and made them actually _mean_ something.  He thought that he had a clean sweep of it, but of course there was Will, sly and sneaky. He tried to stop him, but that probably sealed it and made the American more determined to fight him for her. He really wished he'd pitched before so he had some practice, of what it felt like, but it was too late. He really was David up against Goliath who had two seasons and so much more experience behind him.

But Ricky had passion, and heart, and just sheer will that she had. To. Be. On. His. team.

  
Naturally, he lost.

  
How could the front man of an indie rock band trying to crawl back into the public eye by their fingernails, that formed when she was barely a teenager, possibly compete with international superstar and general cool dude Will.I.Am?  
  
He didn’t speak to Will for the rest of the day. It was petty, but it eased the ire swirling irrationally inside him.  
  
And when he made love to Claire that night all he could hear was that song, two lines of her hypnotic singing jammed on repeat in his head as if they were egging him on to orgasm.  
  
He didn’t dwell on it though, and within a week and with a glut of other singers that charmed him equally _(liar, **she** didn’t charm you she enslaved you) _ now on his team Anna McLuckie was dampened down enough that he thought it was over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! It will get quicker, but I feel like the plot device coming up in the next chapter isn't very realistic and probably happens and disappears too quickly. However, I have committed, and will follow through. Many, many apologies.

_Two weeks later._

  
‘Mate, sorry, I’m gonna have to bail Christa is not happy’  
  
Ricky sighed shoving his free hand into his pocket

‘Thumb and under mate, that’s all I’m saying. Go on then be off with yer. Ta-ta’

He hung up with his best friend and band mate Simon Rix and sighed again. They were supposed to be meeting for a few drinks just to catch up. His schedule on The Voice and the PR trail for the new album meant that they hadn't really had any proper time to just talk. That and Rix saying about how fame was changing Ricky. He wanted to make sure it stayed a joke, and not become a reality.   
  
Not wanting to go home immediately he left the small bar he’d been waiting in and decided to go for a wander. Soho hummed with life that Friday evening. Restaurants, bars and theatres were illuminated brightly to draw in their moths: their customers. He found himself drawn down the side streets where there was no shortage of live music establishments, and an eclectic mix of genres could be heard mutely emanating from many of them. He was passing a bar called John’s when he heard it again. _Her again._ He stopped, momentarily transfixed, and before he knew it he was heading down the narrow staircase into the small intimate venue. On turning back on himself at the bottom of the staircase he immediately found the stage. Despite it being a small room, he could hide discretely at the back near the bar, the good number of other patrons also helping to give him cover. He ordered a beer his eyes never leaving the stage and he just listened. There she sat harp in hand eyes shut as she sang softly into the mic. It was mesmerising. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand it. The song ended and it took him a moment to shake himself out of the daze that had settled over him like a fog. Luckily it seemed as if he’d stumbled upon on her at the start of her set so he enjoyed 40 minutes of her stripped back set.   
  
He left as soon as she did not wanting to run into her, mainly because he wouldn’t know what to say to her but also because he didn’t know what this meant. They had the battle rounds coming up where he would have to say something neutral and constructive as one of the other impartial coaches. he had plenty to say about her singing. He wasn’t sure any of it could be broadcast.  
  
That troubled him.

The fresh night air brought him sweet relief from the cloying hypnotic atmosphere she’d created back there.

He rubbed his hands over his face to try and clear his head some more. He was vaguely aware of a door opening to his left but he kept walking until he felt a hand on his arm.

Shit, she was so much more arresting close up.

Her dark brown eyes were filled with confusion and caution but there something else in them that he could identify with even if he couldn’t name it.

He realised it was getting tense, they were just stood in the middle of a street looking at each other. Thankfully she broke first.

‘Are you spying on me?’ She blurted

He laughed.

‘What? Like eyeing up the competition?’

She looked away embarrassed.

‘Maybe, I don’t know. I just.. Never mind, I should be going.’ She looked irritated and he didn’t know why.

‘Have I upset you Anna?’

She stared at him

‘No, why would you have upset me?’

Now it was him who felt at a loss, this was weird, he felt socially awkward and he never felt socially awkward. Okay so he wasn’t God’s gift to women or some sort of smooth operator, but having the background he had he had confidence. And here he was baffled by some young nymph that he couldn’t work out and couldn’t stop listening to.

‘I like listening to you sing, okay that’s it. No hidden agendas, or cameras or anything. I was passing having been bailed on and I came into listen’

He thought he’d made it worse but her eyes seemed to soften and she smiled.

‘Thanks for stopping to listen. I’m always petrified that I’ll walk out and it’ll just be me and the barman’

He felt the wide genuine smile that encompassed so many emotions spread across his face

‘God, I know that feeling.’

And just like that the tension eased. He’d no idea where it had come from in the first place, but that was life. When he would later look back on it, he’d realise it was in fact the tension of knowing secretly she threatened everything his life currently was. He didn’t realise what his face gave away when she sang. But she’d seen it, hell that’s all she’d seen throughout the 40 minute set. A blazing soul stripping look that left her feeling naked.

They parted company after that as Anna left to find her flatmate. He’d learnt in their brief encounter that she’d move down from Stirling to try and make a go of it in London, especially whilst she was still in ‘The Voice.’

They’d already bid their goodbyes when she turned back to him.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t pick you’ she confessed quietly.

He smiled

‘Will is a great coach, besides you don’t need anyone to make you sound good Anna’ a whispered confession of his own.

OOO  
He smiled contentedly and kissed her knuckles as she brushed his lips with her fingers.

Her eyes fluttered shut, eyes that he knew so well, so deeply, eyes that he’d looked into for 5 years, through tough times and good ones. In a plethora of different countries, after long times apart spent touring, during the most intimate moments when he covered her body with his own.

‘Are you worried about the battles?’ She asked her voice a little hoarse.

He kissed her hand again

‘No, not really. I just hate having to choose. Who knew, eh?’

As a TV producer and pragmatist, Claire was by far the most supportive of his decision to veer off this path of song writing, gigging and mucking about, and he was bone deep thankful for her. In fact, she'd even seemed a bit surprised that he'd considered it. 'I just didn't think it was your sort of thing' she'd explained, vaguely waving a hand with a mascara wand in it, as he watched her from the bed get ready for one of her work dos she insisted he attend.

He was brought out of his reverie by lips at his face, his neck, his throat. A hungry smile tugged at his lips as he flipped them over and devoured her in round 2.

 

_The battles._

  
Fuckfuckfuckfuck

He was trying to play it off but he was a sweating squirming mess in his seat. This was real, this was people’s lives. Yes it may be a ‘stupid reality show’ but this was the new ‘play gigs and get recognised’ and he had to keep one person’s hopes alive, and shatter another’s. He needed to halve numbers on his team. It was something the casual viewer, and Ricky was once one of them, didn’t even blink at, it was the how the format worked. But here he was sat in the spotlight with the power to grant and deny, it was a little too close to playing God for comfort.

So it was a twisted sense of satisfaction, of knowing that it wasn’t just him likely making mistakes that he was of the opinion that Will had fucked up. Pairing Anna and Jessica, the two best singers, in his opinion on Will’s team? Giving them Green Day? _What? if it was up to you, you’d have her in angel wings singing Eva Cassidy?_ He trampled down on in subconscious, he hated _hated_ the games it played. They were both a little off but he knew that either way ~~she’d~~ they’d be okay because he had his steal. In the end, his steal was for Steele (Jessica), and Anna sailed through still out of his grip, haunting him, teasing him.

‘It keeps getting quicker now, the blinds are always the worst, you don’t know when it’s going to end, but now the momentum picks up and before you know it, we’ll be going live’

They were on a break, all the judges sat in a room Tom, sat stoically having a bite of cake, Will was scrolling through his Ipad, Kylie on her phone, and Ricky sat on a table, legs swinging chatting with Tom.

Even after a couple of months it was a surreal feeling to be grouped with these 3 mega stars. He was just a scruffy indie lad from Leeds, no vocal training, born out of a love for music and band practice in Rix’s attic.

A knock, a floor manager, 5 minute call, last battle rounds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros own the song lyrics for this chapter. I own nothing but the mistakes in this poor writing. Please don't hate me.  
> Next chapter is not far off finished, so should be up sooooooon.  
> Shout out to Maria. Go read her fab Ricky stories 'Bluebirds' and 'letters to her' you won't regret it.:D  
> Also shout to Moonlight, not seen you around these parts for a while, hope you are well?

He was walking to his car when it happened.

‘Ricky Wilson?’

He turned expecting autograph requests, but instead there was a medium height man, with neatly combed blonde hair, andglasses. He looked ill, but very calm. Ricky didn’t know why but this man gave him the chills.

‘Yeah?’

‘Follow me’

Ricky frowned

‘What?’

‘If you want to see either of your loves again you’ll follow me.’

Ricky didn’t understand the plural but it was enough, they walked out of the gravel car park which opened into some green open space, there was a river not too far slightly concealed by the protudence of the building.

He was vaguely aware of a couple of others following too, including Will, alarms bells ringing ripples of unease in the air, and tendrils of dread crept round his heart. The tendrils grew to spikes when he heard a muffled scream of his name from

‘Claire, oh my god, what the hell is this?’ He made to struggle, fight the man and try and get to Claire who was locked inside a small metal cage.

‘If you or anyone else hurt me or try and rescue them and they both die’

_Both_

Behind Claire in her own metal cage was Anna.

The spike in his heart turned to ice.

‘Then at least explain what the hell you want.’

The man smiled, still so calm.

‘My name is James, and you Mr Wilson have been a bad man.’

Ricky frowned _Crazy, an absolute nutter what was he on about ?_

He turned around to his companions who were equally frozen in terror.

He looked to Claire who was sobbing through her gag, her hands were tied she looked petrified, ice white complexion, trembling. Anna was calmer, but her big brown orbs were wider than bambi’s and she looked at him transmitting her fear only in this way, no visible signs like Claire, but he knew from that one glance that she was equally afraid, she was just better at hiding it. He frowned asking if she knew what this lunatic was on about and she shook her head imperceptibly, equally as confused. 

‘You’re going to have be a bit more specific I’m afraid mate, preferably after letting my girlfriend and one of the contestants on this show go’

James laughed

'One of the contestants’ oh please, you know her name, in fact you know a lot about her’

Claire stopped sobbing to look at him, her face ashen at James’ implication.

‘That’s ridiculous, are you trying to imply I’m cheating on Claire?’

‘And it why you must choose which one lives and which ones dies. You need to be taught that you cannot have everything, you think you can, but no.’

‘So you’re going to kill an innocent woman to punish me? Why the hell do you think Anna and I are involved? Which we are not, for the flaming record.’

‘You look quite cozy at John’s bar the other week. And then so cute singing together in that studio’

Ricky froze, this guy was a full on stalker. He’d heard this sort of thing happen, a price of fame you might say, but he’d never thought it would happen to him.

‘Okay so we’ve got to know each other but nothing more than that, besides it would be unprofessional of me she’s on this show as a contestant. There is certainly nothing sexual and you have no proof’

James smiled but it was a grimace, there was no warmth in it, his eyes remained dead. He went over and unlocked the door and grabbed both women pushing knives into the small of their backs in warning.

 ‘Choose.’

They both winced and Ricky assumed the nutter had just applied pressure in threat.

Ricky ran his hands through his hair, frantic, how could he stall? He needed to make this stop.

‘Wait, wait, what do you want, money? Anything, I’ll hand myself over to the police whatever you want, just let Claire and Anna go, I’m begging you please. Please.’

‘And to think I once worshipped the Kaisers’ James sneered ‘how the mighty have fallen, you are nothing but a cheating coward. CHOOSE.’

A push and stumble towards the water, a stumble as they soft dirt fell away into the water.

His gaze switched from Claire to Anna, Claire, Anna, Anna, Claire.  
Claire’s eyes pleaded, but Anna’s look, really looked and he saw resignation, but he saw determination and she wiggled her hands which were supposed to be bound.

‘Claire, I choose Claire"

It was enough to distract James and Anna pushed forced the knives from his hands, as Ricky dashed in and land another blow. At the same time reinforcements arrived and they freed the women.

Claire flung herself into his arms and he knew then that he loved her so much.

He was aware of a flurry of movement, but then a scream and a splash made him look up. He thought it was James being contained, but he watched in horror as the murky surface of the river consumed Anna and James.

He felt fingernails at his back and Claire’s urgent voice.

‘Don’t just stand there, go GO’

His shoes and trousers came off but it wasn’t him doing it, he was far away as if under water himself. He barely registered the icy water on his skin as he swam desperately trying to find her, _she can’t be dead please no no no._ Water whooshed and gushed in his ears he could hear muffled shouts from the land, but in his head was the eery sounds of her siren call. His lungs were screaming at him for sweet air, but he knew if he broke the surface without her, that was it. And then a flash of gold 5 feet below him sent hope surging through his veins, his lack of oxygen forgotten. Up, up, up they went. He could see the beacon of the light which was their safety but it was hard work now, for his ailing body and the extra burden of hers. _Come on come on come on._

Choking, spluttering, relieved murmurs.

“What the hell were you thinking Ricky, you are far too valuable to go on reckless rescue missions.”  
  
“Qualified lifeguard” he half spluttered half whispered.

He batted away the fussing safety officer, and rolled the lifeless girl onto her back so he could start reviving her, he rubbed her chest – nothing. He needed to do mouth to mouth and quickly. His eyes barely flickered to where he imagined Claire to be before he pressed his lips to the frozen blue ones in front of him. It was nothing like the sweet, caress the embraces that haunted his dreams. This was pressing, urgent, necessary. It was just a touch so he could get precious air into her. Time trickled away and she remained stone. _Come on come on come_ “please don’t be dead” And then.

A cough had never sounded so sweet. He bundled her into and upright position pounding on her back so she could expel all the water. She stared at him desperately trying to utter his name between choking.

‘Shhhh sweet Anna, just concentrate on breathing” He was immensely glad that he barely murmured that- it was automatic, relief he reasoned at her being alive.

It troubled him that he’d felt a similar amount of emotion at Anna being in danger and then being safe as he did with Claire. But he’d rescued Anna, she’d been teetering on a precipice between life and death. Claire had rushed straight into his arms. He soon halted his thoughts as they were both bundled into foil wraps by paramedics and it was only then did he realise how violently he was shaking. Anna was lifted on to a stretcher and whisked away and he was being coaxed into doing the same thing “I can walk” he grumbled shrugging off a green jumpsuit clad man in his 30s who had a firm grip and bemused frown

The scene was swarming with police and three ambulances, even Will was being handed a foil wrap. Which was ludicrous since he had his coat on. A swarm of black and white and flashing blue in the middle of which he presumed sat James. Fury bubbled inside him and he began to edge of course, but mr frowny was having none of it and the grip became ironclad.

“I’ve been given strict instructions to get you to A&E Mr Wilson, and for all your predictions I really don’t want a riot”

It was obvious he’d been dying to say that since he got here. Ricky just stared, and sighed resignedly. Then a thought struck him

“Where’s Claire? Is she okay, what happened?”  
  
“Mr Wilson, please.” He struggled but they were close to the ambulances now and he could hear

“Claire, thank god. She hopped off the stretcher in the back of one of the vans and rushed into his arms.”

“You were gone so long, I..” she sobbed

“Hey, I’m fine, it was just so dark”

They were both coaxed back into the warmth of the vehicle, and Mr frowny started prodding and poking him.

“What happened to nut case?” He asked

“He went under too, presumably with Anna, but he surfaced soon after you dived in. He was tackled to the shore and arrested immediately.

“Did you lose consciousness at all?” There was Mr frowny, direct as ever.

“No, is Anna alright?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You don’t know do you?”

“We are quite the angry mob, aren’t we Mr Wilson.”

Ricky gaped at Claire who just giggled and shrugged.

“Have you got a bet on?”

Mr Frowny at least had the decency to look apologetic.

“With control, yeah”

“Well, I guess then you’re my kinda guy."

OOO

'What did he mean by you two looking cosy practising music together?' It wasn't an accusation, or a threat,  just a tired question.

They were stuck in two hard, uncomfortable but adjoining hospital beds, waiting for the Doctor to discharge them. There was a constant stream of traffic with a soundtrack of crying, harried voices and ringing phones. The light was bright and artificial and making his head hurt. He just wanted to go home pull down his black blinds and sleep for at least 10 hours.

Her query just amplified the pounding, so he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes lost in the memory of that day not long after he'd first stumbled across her in John's bar.

OOO

_Whenever he was in London he'd always liked this studio, with its corridor of soundproof practice rooms complete with little windows in the doors so as you walk along you got snap shots of different people with different music stories. There was always a budding rock band just graduated from the one of member's bedrooms, then a more classic type, perhaps an oboist hoping to make into one of the big orchestras. Then the plethora of piano or guitar playing pour your soul out types._

_That day the rooms were mostly empty, apart from a classical type, a flautist this time. She was red in the face and she looked tired, he guessed she'd probably been there since opening at 8, and it was almost lunch time._

_Then in the last room, he spot a glimpse of harp and short pixie cut hair, and sure enough there sat Anna. He stopped without any real conscious thought and just watched the fluid movement of her fingers as she played a soundless tune, well to him at least. His fingers twitched and he'd reached out to the door handle before his brain kicked in._

_Unfortunately the movement had caused her to look up and her face broke out into a cautious smile and she waved him in greeting._

_'Are you following me?' She asked with a arched eyebrow, sarcasm and hint of playfulness colouring her tone, as she echoed her opening statement from their last impromptu meeting._

_'I'm starting to wonder if it is the other way round' he parried back._

_Her laughter sounded like the chorus melody of her harp version of 'Get Lucky.' Light, airy, and oddly addictive._

_'Oh yeah? Well I was here first, so I don't know how that works.'_

_Her eyes dropped to the small bag slung over his shoulder and her head fell to the side in question._

_'Ah, yeah, I've started ukulele lessons again. You lot coming in with your singing and several instruments made me feel guilty.' He paused 'How many do you play?'_

_She smiled bashfully, 'well harp and piano, and I can get away with guitar.'_

_'Impressive, I hope Will knows what a talent he's got on his team.'_

_She didn't reply, perhaps not knowing what to with the compliment, or something else, something deeper. Instead, she changed the subject 'So, what have you been practising?' she asked with a nod to the ukulele._

_'Nothing yet, I was planning on bashing through a few bits before I have to go rehearsal for the battles.'_

_'You could show me, I mean I was planning on having a break anyway.' She gestured to the kit kat she'd just pulled from her pin badge clad satchel and something inside him grated as the age gap between them was highlighted._

_His only response was to shut the door and unzip his case, and faff with some chord sheets._

_He began to whistle the introduction of 'Home' by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros and her face lit up in recognition. He started the female verse but when she started singing along with him he had a thought._

_They should sing it together._

_He should have rejected the idea, in fact he should never have agreed to play for her. No, even before that he should have spotted her in that room and walked straight on past to reception to the nice smiley lady with curly hair who really should have been in a dentist or a doctors surgery, and booked a room, where he would alone. By himself. Solo. Seul._

_Not with someone who was barely old enough to drink or drive._

_Not with someone who was on a rival team for this goddamn talent show that was starting to be more trouble than it was seeming to be worth._

_Not with someone who despite everything, he was starting to see he had a connection with._

_It's just a song. A tiny voice timidly yet steadfastly fired back. But the niggle of something else told him this was how it began._

_'We could sing it together' he wanted to stamp on his own foot, sew his lips together, and disappear through the ventilation hatch all at once. But the look she gave him in answer was worth it._

****_Alabama, Arkansas,_  
I do love my Ma and Pa  
Not the way that I do love you  
  
Well, holy moly me oh my  
You’re the apple of my eye  
Girl, I've never loved one like you  
  
Man, oh, man, you're my best friend  
I scream it to the nothingness  
There ain't nothing that I need  
  
Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie  
Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ  
Ain't nothing please me more than you  
  
Home, let me come home  
Home is wherever I'm with you  
Home, let me come home  
Home is wherever I'm with you

_He'd never considered putting harp and ukulele together: too similar, too random, just generally not the done thing. But when she began complimenting his chords with little runs and additions only a natural musician could do, he decided it was his new favourite instrument duet. Not that he'd really had one before._

_After a while, his playing became sloppy, not because he was growing tired or losing his place on the chords, but because he couldn't take his eyes off her when she played. Luckily, she never noticed because she kept her eyes closed mostly, just feeling the music and improvising appropriately._

_'I love that song' she admitted when they finally finished the chorus for the last time. 'There's a lot of songs called 'home'' she mused 'makes you wonder if songwriters are trying to tell us something?'_

_'What? Like please go 'home' and stop clogging the airwaves with your pathetic music?'_

_She laughed but her statement did make him think, and smile ironically at the fact the main single on their new album had 'home' in its title._

_'I think people write songs on subjects close to the heart, and home is where the heart is. Or so they say.'_

_Her big brown orbs pierced him, and he knew it had been the right thing to say._

_OOO_

'So you just played a song together and then went home?'

He nodded, heels still pressed firmly into his eye sockets so that white sparklies danced in his vision.

'I promise you Claire, whatever that nutter said about me and Anna is not true.'

He resurfaced just so she could see his face, see that despite everything that fizzled and bubbled in his mind, that sparked in his heart when he was around Anna McLuckie, he needed Claire to see that he loved her and that it was enough.

'Where the hell did he come from? I thought they stalked you for a while first before unleashing the really crazy stuff.'

Despite everything he laughed.

'I dunno, I don't have a 'how to be a stalker for dummies' book.'

Her eyes had told him that she believed him, but it was the snorted laughter that confirmed everything was okay between them. Not resolved, not completely settled, but while she gave a positive response to his quips, it was alright.  He always got the feeling Anna humoured him, but Claire truly liked his poor jokes.

The curtain rustled and a middle aged nurse bustled in with a gleam in her eye at the sight of him.

'Mr Wilson, sorry to disturb but Ms Mcluckie's parents are here and would like to speak to you, if you are up to it.'

His gangly frame was already clambering off the bed before she could finish and he followed her up through the A+E up some stairs where the ruckus gradually quietened, and then at the end of a corridor stood a balding man and a woman who could only be Anna's mother. Her dad's eyes were red and his wife clung to his arm like a life raft.

'Mr Wilson.'

'Ricky please.'

'You saved our daughter?'

'I...'

'That is what the doctor's said, that you jumped in a river and pulled Anna from the bottom of it.'

His voice broke and Mrs McLuckie faces disappeared into the bulk of her husband.

'Yes, I did drag her out.. but please tell me, is she okay?'

They pointed to the room next to where they were stood. The blinds obstructed the window view, and they gestured at him to go in.

He made to object but they insisted.

'She's in an induced coma for recovery but I know she'd want you there. When she came to briefly, they said she said your name.'

There was questions and curiosity in their eyes but he ignored it,  his need to see her, to confirm her wellbeing and safety has suddenly overwhelmed him. Like diving back into that river again.

The room is a small little sealed box with just the steady life affirming beat of the monitor. He wanted her awake and playing, singing, he'd even take her shouting at him.

He just wanted to see those brown eyes that swallowed him whole.

But instead, she was pale and unmoving, his little fairy girl.

Her hand was ice cold when he reached out and touched her and he didn't know why but he began humming to her.

Her fingers twitched under his, and he knew music was her life source. It was there for every emotion, life event, it helped form her choices and her very being.

She lived to play,

and it seemed that he lived to listen to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, So here is The Knock-out round and some fall out from the kidnap. I must admit, for once I'm quite happy with certain parts of this. The wonderful, wonderful group 'Daughter' own this chapter's song lyrics for their song Home. Do listen, it's fab and for me is just so Anna. Well, if it was arranged for harp and her pixie vice singing it. Do imagine that when you listen. Also, Paolo Nutini owns 'Autumn' which feature in this chapter because it was her Knock-out song. I rewatched the the Will and Ricky episode of the Knock-outs to write this chapter so all the actual TV stuff and video tape/package quotes are real. The timeline may be off for when things were filmed, but no amount of research yielded any solid results, so I exercised artistic licence.

_The Knockouts_

 

Life doesn't stop, not for comas, not for death not even for crazy stalkers with a liking for water.

Word reached him that Anna would compete in the knockouts despite only leaving hospital the day before yesterday a total of just a week and a half after _that_ day.

That was how he had began to categorise it in his head. Before that day, and after that day.

He was sleeping, but his head was in a near constant throbbing headache. Claire had caught him one night hunched over the bathroom sink with a packet of Morrison's paracetamol in one hand and massaging his temples with another. The next day she had cancelled her morning appointments and his, and frog marched him back to the A+E. The doctor who had finally got round to treating them remembered their case and sent him immediately for a CT scan.

The results had been clear, and it had been put down to stress and trauma. It wasn't that uncommon they said.

He just thought it was his penance. It wasn't his fault he had a crazy stalker, but it was his fault Anna lay in a bed down a corridor not too far from where he lay in a donut shaped tube machine while his brain was photographed.

It was also his fault that Claire now jumped every time the phone rang and burst into tears when someone sent her some flowers but didn't leave a note.

It turned out they were from her brother but it still irked her.

James may have been behind bars, but the effects of his actions were still unfolding, like ripples on a pond. Moreover, they only had the what and not the why. The police were still vague on what would cause a man to kidnap two women, just citing mental health problems. They assured him in the generic way, just like the dramas that they were doing everything they could, and they did in fact have some promising leads they were investigating but couldn't say any more at that time.

'How's it going?'

'Yeah good thanks, I'm confident in my team. There's some fresh sounds in there.'

He'd not seen Will much since _that_ day but he could see the wariness in his eyes, as if he was afraid having a lunatic holding people you loved at knife point was contagious.

So it was with the reasoning that he couldn't possibly make Will's current opinion of him any worse that he just blurted

'How's Anna?'

'Oh um, fine, I'm meeting with her soon actually. But, um, shouldn't you be worrying about your girl Claire?'

And there it was. Judgement. Will believed there was some truth in James' words.

'I'm not cheating on Claire Will' he protested firmly.

'Oh, I don't think that you are, but I've seen the way you look at her too.' He was nervous, jumping his words around as if afraid to offend, but then he seemed to find his resolve as he stated with conviction: 'She's young Ricky, like way young. She's not even legal man, you just need to stay away.'

He wanted to argue that this wasn't the States, the age of consent was 16 but he felt it would make him look guilty. So he just nodded in capitulation and watched his fellow judge, and once brief friend walk down some corridor of Elstree to..

...Anna.

_You need to stay away._

His feet wasn't listening and he just needed to see her. Their last meeting had ended with her tears and he couldn't bear that as the last image he had of her in his head.

_Visiting hours ended in half an hour, but he was home alone he just needed to see her, to see her eyes looking back at him rather than the lifeless doll that lay forlorn in that bed he'd left two days ago. So he gathered his keys and his ipod and took the bus to the hospital._

_The staff nurse frowned at his bribe of Kaiser Chief tickets, saying that she didn't like them, no offence, and didn't know anyone who did, no offence, but as there was five minutes left he could have those and no more and he better be quick._

_She was sat up with a food tray in front her pushing what looked like rice pudding round the dish. The TV was on but she wasn't watching it. She didn't look up when he pushed the door open._

_'You can't have forgotten anything ma, there's nothing here...oh'_

_'Thank god you're awake' it came out as a rush, a release of breath and sweet relief._

_The spoon clattered to the tray and she made to scramble to him despite the IV drip in her hand so he saved her a job and scooped her into his arms._

_She sobbed a litany of thank yous into his striped blazer and he just breathed her in gratitude. She even smelt like the forest, of pine and flowers and yes a bit hospital-y, but he could forgive that. He had a feeling he'd probably forgive her anything._

_'Mum said you came to see me when I was... you know.'_

_He nodded, guilt swamping him._

_'I may  have pulled you out of the water, but you shouldn't have been there in the first place Anna, that was all my fault.'_

_She shook her head vehemently,_

_'No, no! That guy was a crazy. He kidnapped us, not you. He got something into his head and couldn't let it go. I don't blame you Ricky.' She grabbed his hand to make him look her in the eye 'I don't blame you' she repeated._

_'What if what he said were true?'_

_She frowned at that._

_'Well I have definitely missed something in that case.' His heart leapt as he recognised his own humour in there, and he can't work out whether she was deflecting, or trying to appease him, or both._

_'I'm really glad you're okay' he said, and she looked at him reproachfully 'well, doing better at any rate.'_

_He pulled out his ipod and handed it to her._

_'I wasn't  sure if you liked grapes or flowers, so I made you a playlist instead.'_

_Her eyes filled with tears and later he would realised that then, right  then, it was indeed too late, for her and for him._

_'Thank you' she breathed pushing the tray away, taking the device shoving an ear bud into each ear and turning away from him._

_He'd came here to make sure she was okay, and he'd only succeeded in upsetting her. He trudged home, brow furrowed, hands in pockets, mind whirring._

_How had she known what he was trying to say when even he didn't know._

_He lay awake a long time that night staring at the patterns on the ceiling that car headlights made as they drove past._

He tiptoed down the corridor, knowing that he shouldn't really be eavesdropping on their session, but he just needed to hear her.

He felt like a naughty schoolboy, about to be caught somewhere he shouldn't be. The practice room was empty of extra musicians and personnel, just Will and Anna. The former leant against the piano, the latter sat in profile to him on a chair, harp in tow.

'Well, I have something in mind, I need to sing this, but I'm not sure it'll be...suitable.' Her voice sounded tired and he knew if he could see her face properly there would be bags under her eyes.

_'I'm not really sleeping' she shrugged. Every time I close my eyes I'm under water again._

_'I'm sorry'_

_'It's really not your fault.'_

'Well, let's hear it, it's your song choice, have courage with your convictions. I'm sure it'll be great.'

Something in Will's voice sounded flat and generic and it made Ricky curl a fist round the door frame.

She nodded and shifted on her seat adjusting the harp.

'It's erm called Home'

Many things flickered through him, mainly 'no surely not that version' and it wasn't. It was so much worse, or better, depending on how you looked at it.

 _Take me, take me, home, home_  
Take me, take me, home, home  
Now he's moving close,  
My heart in my throat.  
I won't say a word,  
But I think he knows...  
That I've hardly slept,  
Since the night he left.  
His body always kept,  
Mine inside of it.  
Keep the nightmares out,  
Give me mouth to mouth.  
I can't live without ya,  
Take me to your house.

He ran.

Ran from the studio and through the maze of corridors to the outside, down to the river bank where everything had turned to shit.

She was just a girl, a young girl who he barely knew apart from a couple of encounters, yet she slayed him. With every look, every word, every note.

She found him like that, on his knees, his favourite jeans covered in mud.

'He doesn't like the song.'

Ricky half grunted, half groaned.

'I hate to say it Anna, but I don't think you'll be going through.'

She smiled ruefully.

'Really? Has he been giving off 'I hate adulterers' vibes to you too?'

'What's he having you sing?'

'You'll see tomorrow.'

He turned to her, looking down at where her small soft hand had found his own, tentatively twining their fingers just like she had her very being, around his heart. He was wrung out, drained.

'Yeah I suppose I will.'`

OOO

He stood in his dressing room until the final, final call just holding Claire in his arms. She hadn't questioned his wellbeing, just sensing that after everything that had happened he needed this. He'd been surprised she'd agreed to come to the filming after what had happened here. The memories that lurked outside this studio.

After the fifth irate bang on the door, and yelling of his name she pushed off him and straightened the collar of his black shirt and ran a hand through his hair so that it sat properly to the side.

He relished her touch, the care in it. She was an his anchor, five years was a long time and he sought refuge in the steadfast foundation they had built.

'You'll do' she declared with a sniff, grabbing her handbag and quickly applying some lipstick in the mirror he hadn't bothered to look in. He knew he look haggard from the headaches that were finally subsiding, but no amount of makeup could fill in the cracks in his face. _Or the cracks that are starting to splinter in your life. Looks like James took a crowbar to them good and proper._

He wrenched the door open covering his anger by waving Claire through first and offering her his arm. He accompanied to her seat to the 'oohs' and 'awww isn't he a proper gentleman' from the surrounding audience members, and the nearly boiling fury of the stage managers who were 'trying to get this bloody thing filmed before midnight.'

They'd already filmed Kylie's and Tom's teams knockout rounds, and now it was Ricky's and Will's turn.

He'd blagged his way through the little films last week, they liked to show as filling material between each team, and before each contestant, hoping he looked invested in his team, and not as though someone was trying to build a housing estate in his skull.

But genuinely, he hoped he'd given enough time and energy to his team. Despite everything, he had forged a connection with them _not like her, never like her,_ and he hoped he could help them grow into the singers he knew them to be. Fortunately, the two best on his team didn't need his limited coaching skills, they shone in the own right.

_It's the biggest test for them, it's biggest test for me. It's terrifying, because I can't say goodbye to any of them really._

Also fortunately, for this round they chose the song. So that had saved the late nights before the battles shuffling bits of paper and photos of his team trying to find suitable, fair pairings and THEN a song that would showcase both of them.

He'd probably put more effort in than was required.

Maybe he cared more than he realised.

Maybe that was the problem.

Jessica was a worrier, but she sang with heart and he was a sucker for an accent that was just mere miles from his own. Yorkshire people were hearty, and friendly, and invited you round for a cuppa and called you duck and asked if you were 'alrate' and said 'ayup' instead of hello, and had gravy on everything. It was home.

Chris, well, Chris was one of the two best on his team that he talked about. His rendition of 'Over the Rainbow' made him yearn to be there. Away from the churning in his stomach that told him conflict was coming.

He'd known it all along, even if he'd only just realised it the moment he'd ran from the studio yesterday.

But back to his team.

Beth came next, another Jess you might say, but younger, quirkier, and complete with guitar. Her song choice made them all feel old. She was just 3 when 'Teenage Dirtbag' was released. _And **she** is barely 2 years older than that._ He clenched his fist damning that voice to the farthest corners of hell.

Christina Marie. What to say about this powerhouse. Well just that, he was conscious that maybe he loved her so much because she was the chalk to Anna's cheese. But that would do them both a disservice to compare them like that. Christina Marie was already a recording artist, and although his choices would come down to the performance on the night, he knew that his live shows team would almost certainly have her on it.

She destroyed the song and stamped all over it, and he could only laugh with sheer admiration through her final killer note.

Jazz, Max, and Emily follow that incredible performance.

After Emily it suddenly dawned on him that it was now up to him to make more dream crushing decisions. Like felling trees in a forest, some would fall to the ground dead, and forgotten.

It was even more brutal than the battles, as 7 became 3.

He took a deep breath, sure in his choices of Chris and Christina Marie.

But the third, well that caused more problems. Jess and Beth had not given completely solid performances, nerves creeping in. Max just wasn't what he was looking for. So Jazz and Emily it was.

_Jazz, Emily. Emily, Jazz._

He knew who the technical winner of the two was.

But when had this whole bloody thing been about logical, sound decisions?

_Go with your heart Ricky._

Oh fuck it.

'It's Emily.'

Relief coursed through until it solidified to apprehension. Now that he'd finalised his team, It was Will's team, and his harp wielding, Scottish accented, pixie curse was on that team.

The entire film before her performance made him clench the red leather of his seat surely leaving scratch marks.

'I've chosen Autumn by Paolo Nutini.'

Even Will messing with her harp made him mad.

It was entirely irrational.

'It's the least likely song to see someone just trailblaze.'

_And that's exactly why you picked it._

He was aware of Kylie looking over at him and frowning and he must have made a sound to betray his ire.

Anna was going to get fucked over and it was all his fault.

She deserved to win this show. No, she was too good for even that, she deserved just **more.**

She was simultaneously the creature that lured men into crashing their ships against the rocks, and the angel that welcomed them into heaven.

And then Will began to shit all over the song adding unnecessary backing. All Anna needed was herself, and that harp.

No gimmicks, no accompaniments and certainly no Will.I.Am.

He snorts at Anna's diplomatic commentary.

'It was _interesting_ to see Will do his thing on the song.'

Yeah interesting was certainly one way to describe it.

Then he suggested leaves.

But that wasn't his breaking point.

'So she chose a not so good song.'

His head shot up from where he had taken to doodling in his notebook just to channel his anger, and avoid looking at her before was absolutely needed, and his furious glare landed heavily on Will who at least had the decency to look guilty.

'I'm worried the song is a little bit safe. I've always wanted to do music, and pursue a career in it. I really don't want it to end, I want to go as far as I can.'

_Oh Anna._

Despite everything it was truly beautiful.

She wore a  dark jumpsuit and headband and long earrings. Her eyes were dark lined and dusted with dark shadow. Possibly a strategic decision by make up to hide the real shadows underneath.

He cannot look away from her, and Tom turned to look at him, and he swore that he knew everything in Ricky's mind right then.

Kylie and Tom declared it sweet, and it was. It wasn't alluring like her audition, it was sadder. The heaviness of her experience with James clear to him. But more than that, it felt like a goodbye.

 _But now it's quiet and I can hear you sing_  
'My little fish don't cry, my little fish don't cry'  
Autumn leaves have faded now...

He knew it.

She knew it.

Will knew it.

'I don't think anyone could dislike that' the words tumbled from his lips and it was a last ditch plea to Will as much as he can do while being filmed for national Saturday night television.

It didn't work.

But deep down he never expected it to.

It's only when he watched the show back with Claire on the sofa in his Leeds home a couple of months later that he saw the camera had caught their reunion at the end. When coaches and contestant had mingled on the stage for false platitudes and commiserations. His fingers plunged deeper into the cushion he was wrapped around as he watched himself wrap Anna in a hug.

'Thanks for being so amazing.'

He may as well have said 'I love you.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry!!!!!!!!! It's not a long chapter but it's been long I needed to give you all something. I admit, I'm struggling of how to get the pair where the need to be, but do at least, know where that is! You are amazing, and I am truly sorry for being rubbish! Song lyrics belong to people who aren't me.

_The Quarter Finals. March 2014_

"I have an idea for a song choice. I've worked on a very different arrangement of it just for your voice, so please don't be sceptical when you hear it."

"Okay I'm ready" Christina laughed.

"Everlong by the Foo fighters."

"Oh wow, I know now why you gave me that warning."

They work on the song, Ricky directing the band and Christina Marie, though making sure she mainly led the vocals. It would be more heartfelt, and easier for her to portray the agony of the song if it actually came from her.

It was at least a distraction from his own heart which was just a bloody pulp in his chest. He'd not seen Anna since The Knockouts as she'd gone home to rest and recuperate. She'd not said as much but he got the feeling she was suffering severe sleep deprivation.

_"So" he'd begun. scuffing the ground with his converse his hands deep in his jeans pockets. "I guess this is goodbye."_

_"Yeah" she said mostly to her harp which she was packing away into its case. They'd met one last time, back in January crammed in one of the practice booths in his favourite studio._

_Today they'd sung "Set fire to the third bar."_

_He'd been transfixed on how well their voice fit together despite their differences. Rough and smooth, dark and light. Enchantress, the enchanted. He was usually self conscious of his voice, particularly around Christina Marie. He became painfully aware that he was mostly untrained, and worried that imposter klaxons would start blaring out and he'd be shame glared and tutted from the stage. But Anna made him want to sing, and master the ukulele, and other instruments:  she was spellbinding but inspiring too._

_She seemed to spend an awful lot of time making sure her instrument was secure, then she turned around and he saw the tears in her eyes, her exhausted haunted eyes, and he almost broke._

_But he couldn't. He couldn't just abandoned his life, and a woman he was in love with for the unknown. Because really, what did he and Anna have? A connection, yes. But nothing to ground a real relationship on. She was barely 18 which was something he'd not really thought about because he'd not really considered the other side to them. He accepted that she did something to him, but never really thought about the ‘more’ aspect to it._

_Because that would be dangerous._

_So instead he bundled her into his arms for the last time. Hoping that that embrace could tell her everything words couldn't and their songs shared together shouldn't._

_When they broke apart she left him with a chaste peck on the lips._

_He remained unmoving, deathly still, so there was no mixed signals or doubt that that kiss was a goodbye._

**_I'm miles from where you are_ ** ****__  
I lay down on the cold ground  
And I, I pray that something picks me up  
And sets me down in your warm arms  
  
_He prayed with everything he was that wouldn't become his anthem over the next few weeks._

_OOO_

Life goes on may have been a cliché, but the reason clichés were thus named were because often, they were true.

The release of Education, Education, Education and war AND The Voice lives shows meant interviews and performances galore. There wasn't a radio station, TV chat show, or news programme left untouched.

The band came along for the performances, but the talking was usually left to him.

"Anyone would think that having me go on The Voice was your strategic move to push the limelight further from yourselves" Ricky grumbled as the boys marched off mumbling about a pint whilst he was caked in more make-up and shoved in the direction of an eager beaver presenter and a microphone.

Their response was a vague wave and sheepish grins.

Talk about mates.

Claire met him outside Television centre much later, in a floaty black skirt and red top under a trench coat, with a warm hug that soothed the spiky tendrils of agitation that were prickling under his skin.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, studiously ignoring the small group of women shoving each other with stage whispers of

"You go and ask him."

"No! you."

"Well" replied Claire who was watching the whole thing with an air of amusement and he was half fearful she would just drag him over to them to put them out of their misery. "I had thought we'd just re-heat the jambalaya from last night."

"Oh yeah" he replied with a sniff "you don't fancy going to your favourite little eatery then?"

She stopped dead and turned to him

"What's the occasion?"

He frowned

"I just wanted to do something nice."

"Ricky,  it's been 5 years, we go home and eat leftovers, it's a thing."

"Is it?" He was conscious of the hyenas circling, but this quiet avoidance of the big eared trunky thing had been afflicting them for a while and it obviously didn't care where or when it was finally go to 'trumpty trump.' "Why is it? I thought you'd appreciate the effort."

"You don't have to over compensate for Anna you know."

She'd said it so deadly quietly that he almost thought he'd imagined the words.

His heart thundered at that particular bombshell, she’d drop so casually she could have just asked him the time.

"You want to know what this is about?"

She laughed and brushed a hand through her loose blonde locks

"That would be nice, women are talented at many things but not mind reading. But when their partners meet attractive singing girls and suddenly become distant and oh I don't know get kidnapped by a stalker who also happened to think said partner is having it away with said girl, they begin to think there might just be something in it."

"Maybe try being in a interview that had to be cut short because one of the stage managers just received a call that his wife had been rushed to hospital. And thinking that could be Claire. Shit that nearly was Claire. And yes Anna is something, I don't know what, but right then, all I could think was how much I loved you and how distant I have been lately and how shit I'd feel if that bastard got free and decided to have another crack at you."

At some point she'd crushed herself to him sobbing in his arms and he did feel like a bastard for releasing that on her like a deluge.

But she'd pushed and it had been the truth.

It did make him feel any better though.

When they finally moved on from that street side, still wrapped in each other, the fan club were mercifully absent. Though he did wonder how much they'd hears and if he'd be on the front page of _Closer,_ or the like anytime soon...

 

OOO

He didn't really remember much of the live Quarter Final show. He spent most of it hoping he wouldn't accidentally start word vomiting or cursing on Saturday night prime time television and become a social outcast.

The main thing was Christina Marie's song.

Yes he still had Chris and Emily on his team, but really without being mean, the show was called The Voice and of all the people left in the competition. Christina was the one who had it.

But more than that her song was a plea.

It was an outpouring of vocal anguish on a level he could never achieve.

Anna gave him back his ipod before she left for Scotland.

He listened to the playlist he made for her endlessly for days after so that he thought the earbuds would just meld into his flesh never to be parted.

He analysed the numbers of times each song was played to see what she liked in the list he had picked just for her.

And yes, it is probably already painfully obvious which song was the most played along with Home, and you could have it all.

_And I wonder_  
When I sing along with you  
If everything could ever feel this real forever  
If anything could ever be this good again  
The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  
She sang

_Breathe out_  
So I can breathe you in  
Hold you in  
And now  
I know you've always been  
Out of your head  
Out of my head I sang

It didn't matter what he confessed to Claire, how true it was, Anna was lodged inside his heart.

It would either make him or break him, but as Christina found her own heartache and own loss in that song he had to fight falling apart in that studio.


End file.
